Despite the late hour, Prince Rui was still awake. Light burned in the chambers assigned to him, someone’s shadows danced on the walls. It seemed he was not alone, but by the time the princes circled the house and approached the entrance, his late visitors had already vanished. Perhaps they were only servants, or the interpreter…

  When they were invited inside, Yi Yun chose to leave the conversation to his brother. Hyun knew the regent better, knew the language better, and it was he who had brought the warning. As for his own part, Yi Yun intended to remain a silent witness during the ceremonial exchange, hear the refusal of reinforced guard, then return with sword and bow and lie low somewhere on a nearby rooftop. The conversation, however, immediately went the wrong way.

  “It is fortunate you came by,” Prince Rui greeted them with a radiant smile. Yi Yun cast a quick glance at his brother, saw how Hyun’s shoulders tensed, and understood that he too found this abnormal. “I would not wish to wake you in the middle of the night, but since you are awake already, I invite you for a walk.”

  “And where do you wish to walk?” Hyun asked evenly. His composure was enviable.

  “Oh, not far at all. Barely three streets away,” Prince Rui reassured him, for some reason staring intently at Yi Yun. Yi Yun tried to ignore his gaze, though a vague unease crept over him.

  “Then I shall send for our swords, and my elder brother and I will gladly accompany you,” Hyun attempted to salvage the situation. Prince Rui, however, had a different opinion.

  “You will not need swords,” he said. “A couple of friends will guard us along the way.”

  Translated from Chinese, this clearly meant: “You will go unarmed and under guard”. Yi Yun could only be glad that the hidden sheath in his sleeve was now with him. He wondered whether Hyun still wore the one Yi Yun had once given him.

  “Let us not linger,” Prince Rui clapped his hands against his thighs, draped a fur-lined cloak over his arm, and headed for the exit. Passing Yi Yun, he smiled slyly and winked, making the prince break into a sweat. This boded nothing good for sure.

  Prince Rui refused a servant with a lantern, saying moonlight would suffice. The snow-covered streets truly seemed to glow faintly, it was hard to lose the way.

  They followed the regent, snow crunching under their boots, and Yi Yun watched the braid swaying with his steps, wondering whether this man himself could be the assassin from the magistracy. The height and broad shoulders were similar enough. Though it was, of course, nonsense. The Prince Regent of Great Qing had no need for contraband. He could order the entire royal council to swallow those intoxicating pills, and none would dare refuse.

  The farther they went, the more certain Yi Yun became that he knew their destination. A small, old house on the third street, dusty and splashed with blood. The very one the maid had led him to that morning, where he had received the magnificent golden sword.

  Had Hyun hidden it as requested?

  In case of torture, it was better that he himself did not know where it lay.

  Two shadows flickered across the rooftops to the right and left. Yi Yun indicated them to Hyun with a glance. Hyun looked and nodded. One could only hope these were the promised “friends,” not conspirators already in motion. Just in case, Yi Yun stayed close to Hyun — he could not allow his younger brother to be struck by a stray arrow or the like. The lack of a lantern at least gave them some advantage.

  Turning into a side alley, Prince Rui began ostentatiously counting houses.

  “This one, or the next?” he turned to Yi Yun, comically furrowing his brows.

  “That door,” Yi Yun answered. There was no point in denying it. He was angry that Prince Rui had dragged Hyun into this, but there was nothing he could do.

  Hyun looked questioningly at Yi Yun. Yi Yun only pressed his lips in irritation and nudged him aside to enter first.

  “I found it inconvenient to disturb our host’s house with shouting,” the regent explained benevolently once they were inside the dark building. It smelled of neglect and fresh blood, there were rustlings and someone’s breathing. “So I decided to use this building. Open the lanterns!”

  Light struck the eyes, making him squint for a moment. When Yi Yun could see again, he found four Manchus in the familiar room besides themselves. Possibly the same ones he had encountered that morning, though it was hard to say for certain. One he recognized immediately.

  The Manchus stood around a tall chair to which a loose-haired man in blood-soaked clothes was bound. He had clearly been tortured. When he raised his head, Yi Yun recognized Clay Pot.

  “I have found the one who stole the sword,” Prince Rui announced cheerfully. “To tell the truth, he has not yet said where he hid it, but that is just a matter of time and skill.”

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  Clay Pot’s gaze slid over the princes, lingered on Yi Yun, and then the hunter dropped his head again. Astonishingly, this commoner still had not betrayed the prince. Why? What was his gain here?

  “Forgive my ignorance, but this is a subject of Joseon, is he not?” Hyun asked in a very even, pleasant voice.

  “Yes, Ah-Xian, he is one of yours,” Prince Rui nodded. “If you persuade him with words, he may yet walk again.”

  “With your permission, I will try,” Hyun bowed to the regent, stepped up to the prisoner, and switched to Korean. “I am Great Prince Dojun. Where is the sword you stole? If you give it up, these men will release you.”

  “Water,” the bound hunter rasped.

  “Give him water!” Hyun ordered the Manchu guards. They waited for Prince Rui’s nod, and one of them lifted a chipped bowl to Clay Pot’s cracked lips. When the prisoner had drunk enough, Hyun continued his persuasion. “Now tell us where you hid the sword. Did you truly steal it?”

  Yi Yun suddenly realized that Hyun knew perfectly well the man could not answer correctly. Because the only person who knew where the Ming emperor’s sword now lay was Hyun himself.

  “I know nothing about any sword,” Clay Pot spat hoarsely. “I am a simple hunter. These bandits attacked me in the mountains and dragged me here! If you truly are a prince, save me!”

  “I cannot save you if you do not say where the sword is,” Hyun frowned convincingly.

  “Speak, dog,” one of the torturers turned out to know Korean.

  “May you rot, beasts,” the hunter hissed through clenched teeth. He was immediately struck with a cudgel across his blood-soaked trousers; he cried out. Yi Yun clenched his fists and stepped forward, toward Prince Rui.

  “This man truly does not know where the sword is,” Yi Yun said, meeting the regent’s gaze defiantly.

  “Is that so?” Prince Rui did not seem surprised. “Then who does?”

  “I took the sword. This slave does not know where it is now,” Yi Yun’s temples throbbed; he felt terrified and brave at once. “Release him. This affair is beyond him.”

  Prince Rui studied Yi Yun’s face with interest, then, without breaking the piercing stare of his black eyes, waved his hand to his men.

  “Free the servant and wait outside.”

  They busied themselves untying ropes. The hunter limped and shuffled toward the exit, the Manchus followed. Prince Rui made a slow, dangerous circle around Yi Yun and stopped directly before him.

  “Since you took the sword, Yun, now give it to me,” his smile froze the blood, cold eyes looking straight into his core. One wanted to fall at the great Prince Regent’s feet, tell him everything, and beg for mercy. He was merciful to those who bowed, was he not? People owed him obedience and adoration.

  Yi Yun swallowed and spoke the bravest word of his life.

  “No.”

  The silence in the house became tangible, something one could touch and carry away in one’s palms.

  “No?” Prince Rui repeated. Yi Yun clenched his fists tighter.

  “I cannot give the Ming emperor’s sword to a conqueror,” he repeated slowly. He had nothing left to lose. Fear turned into doomed stubbornness.

  The regent suddenly laughed aloud and stepped back; his cloak swayed with the motion, stirring the shadows on the walls.

  “At least someone dares say it to my face,” he said, running a palm over his long mustache. “I will not torture you, Yun. But what if something were to happen, say, to Xian? But you wish to receive an imperial edict, right. What is the fate of a younger brother to you, truly?”

  Yi Yun’s vision darkened. His face changed. He stepped toward Prince Rui and whispered:

  “Never threaten me with my brothers’ safety. Never.”

  “Well then,” Prince Rui raised a brow. “In this case you would not object if the edict went to Xian instead of you? After such an act of disobedience, I confess I doubt whether I wish to see you as king of Joseon.”

  Spoken aloud, the words made Yi Yun wince. He again felt insufficient, defeated. Even though from the start they had meant to make Hyun the heir, and the answer to Prince Rui’s question was obvious.

  “You may give it to him,” Yi Yun spat. The sword mattered more. Everything was proceeding as it should.

  “And you will agree to serve your younger brother?” Prince Rui taunted. He himself, as Yi Yun recalled, had first served his elder brother, then his brother’s son.

  “I will support my kinsman,” Yi Yun corrected him. Seniority mattered less to him than blood. “As does the Prince Regent.”

  “Fair,” the regent agreed, and blinked. In the dark little house it became possible to breathe again.

  Prince Rui rolled his shoulders, turned away, and approached the broken window frame. Outside it was dark and cold. He stared into the night, hands folded before him. As if drawn by an invisible thread, Yi Yun followed and stopped two steps behind his back.

  Hyun still stood silently and motionless in the middle of the room, in the warm lantern light, yet it seemed as though he had long since dissolved into the shadows.

  “The coldest winter comes before the buds break, have you noticed?” Prince Rui said without turning. “It is already the end of February. Flowers should bloom any day now, yet one could drown in the snowdrifts.”

  “They should not bloom now if they do not wish to freeze,” Yi Yun felt drunk. Fear had gone. Everything was going too well. Clay Pot had been released; he himself had not been destroyed for refusal; Hyun had been promised the title…

  If only this man were not a Manchu and the conqueror of his country.

  If only they might have become friends.

  If only Yi Yun — Muin — were not staring now at his broad back split by a black braid with a streak of gray, seeing clearly the points that could once and for all free his people from oppression. The base of the neck, the armpit, under the ribs on the right… The man was tall, taller than Muin; for certainty, one should strike from the side. The dagger was in his left sleeve. He took a quiet step forward.

  “I would not advise it,” Prince Rui’s voice stopped him. The would-be assassin froze. “You seem to have forgotten the hunt, Yun. Do remember.”

  Yi Yun lowered the hand that had reached for his sleeve and looked at his palms. Had he truly nearly stabbed the one he was meant to protect, merely upon seeing his exposed back? What kind of monster had he become?

  “Forgive the interruption,” Hyun’s voice sounded. The regent turned, a flicker of surprise crossed his face. Had he too forgotten there was a third person present? “This prince must inform Prince Rui why we came to visit him. An assassination attempt is being prepared against the Prince tonight.”